Through Brian's Eyes

by Pernell Rogers

  Chapter 12

  As Kinkaid meandered through the streets of Southern Pines, his mind sizzled as he contemplated the judge’s demise. He wasn’t quite sure what he would do once he was face to face with him. He felt it best to improvise as things moved along. That’s what he enjoyed the most. How to approach the house and greet him was already carefully thought out. It was genius, diabolical, and the judge wouldn’t suspect a thing. Its irony was epic.

  As he did with the late Mrs. Rivera, he turned down the judge’s street, Glenrosa Avenue, and drove by his home a few times looking as innocent as possible. He noticed a car parked in the driveway that didn’t belong to the judge. Someone else was home, something he didn’t expect. Should he approach the house now or wait until the judge was home? Time was getting tight. If somebody has discovered Mrs. Rivera’s body already, a manhunt would arise even though he may not be considered a suspect just yet. If he duped the current occupants into trusting him and letting him in the house, he could kill them and wait for the judge. That involved greater risk and was not the way he wanted to play it. He wanted absolute control over the judge. He yearned to see the judge’s eyes when he revealed his true identity. Suddenly, he remembered he was driving a stolen car. Was it reported stolen already? He couldn’t afford to waste any cycles on that question right now. Getting to the judge was his current mission. He cruised by the home a few more times before pulling over on a small side street named Earll Lane, where it intersected Glenrosa Avenue.

  He found himself waiting again as occasional cars swooped through in the upscale neighborhood. It was another neighborhood where everyone kept to themselves and no one ventured outside. Their homes served as prison cells, keeping them safe from the boogeyman. Such fear in a small town was ridiculous. In the Wichita neighborhood, where he grew up, things were much different. He remembered it being a decent, active neighborhood where people were always outside. Back then, adults were tending to their yards or just sitting outside in their lawn chairs amused by the kids running and jumping up and down the street. It was common to see neighbors visiting one another just to socialize.

  His immediate neighborhood was very nice, but it was the neighborhoods a few streets over that had some bad elements. That’s where he met some kids who acted much older than they were. Those neighborhoods were all about trouble, testing each other to see how much trouble they could get into. He gravitated toward that group and became quite popular with them. It was the beginning of his slow, downward spiral that ended fatally for him. The judge’s neighborhood seemed disconnected…to each his own. He bet they didn’t even know their neighbor’s names, and that would make killing the judge easier. As long as their neighbors kept to themselves, he would have no problems.

  Suddenly, Kinkaid’s vision blurred. He rubbed his eyes and reopened them. Everything was still blurry. He rubbed them once again then everything went dark. When he awoke, everything was clear. A wide-eyed Adam stared out the windshield of this strange car. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. Where was he and how did he get there? This neighborhood wasn’t familiar at all, and neither was this car. He couldn’t catch his breath as he realized the severity of his situation. He twisted back and forth in his seat, fumbling with the seatbelt trying to unfasten it. His vision blurred and he wiped his eyes with both hands. He began to scream, then everything went black. When he opened his eyes, the world was spinning as Kinkaid peered out the windows. He’d never experienced anything like that before. In his gut, he knew something was wrong. There was a tugging in his mind. Could Adam be trying to reclaim his body, forcing its away from Kinkaid’s evil presence? Then Kinkaid slumped forward, his entire body consumed with pain like it was being stretched in every direction. He fought against it as the pain grew. He couldn’t give up control, not now. The internal struggled lasted about a minute, but it felt like hours. Then it was over, and Kinkaid knew he had won. His power over Adam had steadily grown since those early days, and now, he took away everything Adam had.

  Kinkaid found the boredom suffocating, making him restless. Driving around the neighborhood would keep him busy. He checked his mirrors before pulling out. Wait…look at that. There’s the judge’s light-brown Lexus cruising down Glenrosa. He slumped down in his seat, and his eyes followed the car as it slowed and turned into the judge’s driveway. This is it! It’s time to finish what I started. The judge exited his vehicle and entered the front door. Kinkaid shut off his car and gave the judge some time to get himself settled at home one last time. Waiting just a bit longer wasn’t difficult for Kinkaid. Everything had to be perfect.

  He scanned Glenrosa. The neighborhood seemed as dead as when he first arrived. He slipped out the car and removed the backpack from the passenger seat. He flung it over his shoulders and took his time as he strolled down towards the judge’s house. Before turning into the driveway, he stopped, removed the backpack, and reached inside removing the notebook, the pencil, and the Phillips screwdriver. He zipped it up and awkwardly slipped it over his shoulders once again. During the unusual maneuver, he managed to slip the sharp screwdriver into his back pocket. Now he was ready to introduce himself.

  With notepad and pencil in hand, he strutted up the driveway with an awkward teenage stride, and took pride in his acting prowess. Standing at the front door, he rang the doorbell and prepared his words for whoever opened it. The lock jiggled, followed by the sound of a deadbolt. Kinkaid inhaled. The door swung open, but the reflection of the sun on the screen door's window hid the person’s identity.

 

  “Hello?” Kinkaid asked shyly.

  “Hello. Can I help you?” the unseen female voice said.

  “I hope so. I’m looking for Judge Clayton to do a report about a case he presided over. Is this his house?”

  “Yes, it is. Hold o, and I’ll get him.”

  “Thank you very much,” an excited Kinkaid replied.

  In his mind, he knew this would be a double homicide. He couldn’t afford to leave any witnesses. He placed the notepad and pencil in his front left pants pocket and removed the screwdriver, concealing it in his palm behind his right pants leg. His anticipation was at a precipice. The sound of heels hitting the floor echoed from inside, then went silent, replaced by softer footsteps that approached the front door. He could barely make out who was standing at the screen door. Kinkaid resisted hollering at the top of his lungs with joy. His fury would be unleashed as soon as the screen door opened. Then a deep voice said,

  “Can I help you?”

  “Hello, Judge Clayton. My name is Adam Trenton and I go to school at Seacrest Senior High. I would like to interview you for a paper I’m writing for my Social Studies class about the judicial system’s reactions to sentencing someone to death. We learned about Brian Kinkaid in school, and I did some digging around. I found out you were the judge presiding over the case. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, you’re correct. I think that's a pretty heavy subject for the classroom. Are you sure you want to write about this subject?”

  “Oh, sure. I’ve already told my teacher I’d be interviewing you. He thinks it’s one of the best ideas I’ve come up with this year.”

  “Well, that’s wonderful. Come on in and I’ll tell you as much as I can.”

  Kinkaid heard a click from the screen door, then the door’s plunger squealed as the door opened. He could see the judge’s face and body clearly. He lurched forward with the screwdriver in hand, ready for damage.

  He felt the pop as the screwdriver’s pointed tip punctured the soft skin under the judge’s sternum. With a contorted face, the judge expelled air from his body, his breath smelling foul. The judge stumbled backwards as he grumbled in pain and gasped for air. It was time to surprise the judge, hopefully giving him a shock that would stop his heart immediately. In a low tone, Kinkaid said,

  “Hello, you asshole! I bet you don’t know what’s happening or why, do you? I’m damn sure you don’t know who I am. I’m your worst nightmare that’s come b
ack to life. I’m Brian Kinkaid you fuck! I took over this boy’s body just so I could come back and get my revenge. Remember that shithead? Remember I said I’d come back to kill you? Well guess what you dumb fuck? Here I am! This is going to hurt, believe me. Oh, and as a bonus, I’m going to kill your wife too. I don’t give a shit if I’m caught because I’m already dead. I’m going to take both of you to the pit of hell with me. The both of you will love burning with me. Take that, you shit!” With a sharp twist of the screwdriver, the judge winced.

  Kinkaid removed the screwdriver and plunged it again under his sternum, sending the judge falling backwards to the ground. His groans grew louder and Kinkaid tried to silence them by rapidly plunging the screwdriver in and out of the soft part of his abdomen, puncturing internal organs and intestines. The stench from the bile leaking into his stomach cavity was foul. Leaving the judge writhing upon the floor, Kinkaid removed his backpack and the utility knife. Getting bloody was the furthest thing from his mind. This was going to be his masterpiece. The judge began kicking and yelled out loud. Kinkaid smiled.

  Footsteps approached from both upstairs and downstairs. There was a third person in the house. He looked up at the staircase and a boy, maybe twelve years old, stood there, watching him butcher this man. Kinkaid smiled and said,

  “Is this your father, boy? Come here and join him. You both can die together,” then he let out a fiendish howl.

  The boy screamed and Kinkaid rose up wielding the utility knife. More footsteps came from the kitchen area. It was the woman who answered the door. She stopped and yelled, taken aback at the terrifying sight before her. Kinkaid wanted her, and he had to stop her. He chased her as she began fleeing back into the kitchen. She opened the door leading to the basement and slammed it behind her. Kinkaid heard the door lock. He was fine with that. He would come back for her later because she wasn’t going anywhere. It was time to continue his fun with the judge. As he turned the corner, he saw the boy crying over his father.

  “There you are,” Kinkaid said. “Stay right there boy. Let me slice your gullet open with this blade.”

  A piercing scream reverberated through the house, and the boy bolted out the front door calling for God to save him. His screaming was bound to attract someone’s attention. Kinkaid still had a little more time to do his job.

  The judge was sprawled out on his left side as his life force spilled onto the floor. Kinkaid straddled him, rolled him onto his back, then sat on his waist. Kinkaid’s devilish smile disappeared and he said,

  “See you in hell, bitch!”

  With those words, Kinkaid cut off his shirt and made a deep incision from the top of the judge’s chest to the bottom of his sternum. Then, as if filleting a fish, he began carefully cutting the skin from the underlying muscle, pulling and ripping it towards the right side, opening his chest up. More blood flooded the floor as the judge screamed in agony before blacking out. Kinkaid could see vestiges of the ribcage beneath the muscle as he tugged the skin back. Then he began on the left side, but Kinkaid noticed the judge wasn’t responding. Kinkaid reached back and slapped the shit out of the judge, forcing him back to consciousness. When he finished, the judge’s entire chest cavity was exposed, his heart pumping furiously underneath the ribcage. Kinkaid’s hands, arm and clothes were painted with blood, but he didn’t care. He knew there was a fair chance he would die once again in this house.

  He didn’t care if the judge was awake anymore. He reached into the backpack and pulled out his next weapon, the pruning saw, and without hesitation, he began sawing on the judge’s right shoulder. He wanted to keep the judge’s ‘long arm of the law’ as a souvenir. He aggressively sliced through muscle, tendon, and bone until a massive surge of blood squirted from the artery he breached. The sight made him ecstatic, and he moved with haste. To cut the last vestiges of skin, he lifted the severed arm and completed his task. The judge was out cold, but Kinkaid wasn’t sure if he was dead yet.

  Kinkaid took hold of the severed limb and stood up, shaking in so that the hand flopped around aimlessly. It was his new play thing, and he thought of a good use for it. He left the judge behind and headed for the door leading into the basement. He held the arm up, and with a sickening sense of humor, he used the judge’s hand to knock on the door, calling out,

  “Hello, honey. Do you need a hand with anything down there?” A loud shriek permeated the kitchen area through the door. “Ahhh honey, you say I never help you around the house. Let me give you a hand. When we’re done, I can give you a high five!”

  He couldn’t stop chuckling at his own depravity as he terrorized the judge’s wife. He felt all powerful knowing that she was trapped. But soon his jocularity morphed into rage. He wanted her throat between his fingers; he wanted to feel the thump of her jugular veins as they desperately tried to push blood into her brain; he wanted to see her eyes roll back in her head; he wanted to hear the gasps, the silent screams, the fear. He yelled and slammed against the door trying to break it down, but the door didn’t budge. There had to be another way. He looked around and saw her purse sitting atop the counter. He tipped it upside down, dumping its contents onto the tan tile floor until a nice set of keys noisily clang against it. He retrieved them, and one at a time, tried each key in the door lock. The louder her screams became, the more he knew he was on the right track. She knew what he was doing and every scream reaffirmed his anticipation. Eventually, one key slid all the way into the lock. He turned it to the left and the lock disengaged.